Alive With The Glory Of Love
by bellegunness
Summary: with winter comes confusion and a need for answers


_Please take me out of my body, up through the palm trees, to smell California in sweet hypocrisy. Floating my senses surround my body. I wake my nose to smell that ocean burn._

Most days being in a fog was a permanent state of being. Sitting for hours just blankly staring into space wasn't odd, truthfully it had come to be expected. Being quiet to begin with, it's kind of hard to notice big attitude shifts when they happen. A withdrawn teenager who was already prone to angst, wanting nothing to do with anything or anyone, was hard to read when something was actually going on. Even a psychiatrist who parented that child might not be able to know something had shifted, namely one who didn't care about his child and was more concerned about where he could get his dick sucked next. He heard the neighbor bitch was popular, maybe he could pay her a visit. Doting mothers who had good relationships with their daughters would surely notice when their daughter had reverted back to layers of long sleeves, staying tucked away in her bedroom and speaking about as much as a Trappist monk. A good mother was unfortunately no where to be found in these parts.

Was it a dream? Was this all a dream? There was no way of distinguishing the difference between life and whatever life she thought was life but wasn't, or it was and she didn't know. Even her thoughts confused the hell out of her. The constant state of being was on auto pilot, and while school was necessary, eating when she was forced, showering out of habit, sleep had been her only time to escape. It wasn't much of an escape, but at least there she could scream. It was the dream world she screamed in, right?

Flinching as her cigarette burned the insides of her fingers, her constant day dreaming making her fingers very decorative with burns now that she had gotten into the habit of lighting and letting them burn themselves out, she had unfortunately not gotten in the habit of actually smoking them. Was this what being high all the time felt like? How did stoners do it? At least with coke you were alert and happy - or so Leah had told her. Was this how LSD made you feel? She could be hallucinating, after all. She had convinced herself of it that night. There was no way she had seen all those people, it was impossible, wasn't it? Rationalizing things had always come easy for her, but how do you rationalize seeing dead people? Sure, Haley Joel Osment did, and you could believe that she spent hours on the computer researching this 'sixth sense', trying her hardest to find any facts behind the story that had somehow started mirroring her life. Narcissistic therapist? Check. Neglected therapist's wife? Double check. Crazy kid seeing fucked up shit? She'd give that a couple more checks since her and Tate were in the same boat.

Could she put herself in a category with someone who wasn't there? How could he not be there? She was talking crazy. Her dad saw Tate, he was his patient. Ghosts were invisible or something, and if Ben could see him then he had to be a real boy.

_I'll dream about you, I will not doubt you with the passing of time. Should they kill me, your love will fill me as warm as the bullets. I'll know my purpose, this war was worth this, I won't let you down. _

What the fuck was wrong with her? Who lets themselves fall for someone who might not be alive? Who lets themselves think that having interactions with someone who wasn't alive is possible? Welcoming herself back to the outside world as her hand hits her forehead repeatedly, Violet's eyes open to a small crowd of people. She had completely forgotten where she was and momentarily started breathing too quickly. Settling as she recognized the concrete, the tables, the quad, it wasn't something to be happy about - to be at school - but it was something she knew, so it was okay. The school was real, wasn't it? This was what a psychotic break had to feel like, undoubtedly.

"Are you okay..."

How many times could she be asked that and expected to lie? Teachers. Parents. Ghost-like almost-boyfriend guy things. Hell, even the lunch lady had asked the other day. No, she wasn't okay, and no, she didn't want to talk about it. Leaving so she wouldn't have to answer had done the trick each time, each time except with the one she couldn't evade. Ghost side, 1 pt. Was it weird or lucky that Tate happened to pop up in unexpected places? He had physically grabbed her and kept her quiet, only to later physically do something to the house intruder to cause the blood on the walls. Real boy side, 1 pt.

Maybe spending recreational time with Leah could help her mind. If nothing else she could forget about everything and focus on whatever it was people strung out focused on. Unless being on coke would mean she over thought her existence at super speed, if that were the case then that powder could go fuck itself. Maybe getting high on THC would solve the thought process? She couldn't over analyze things if she kept forgetting what she was doing. There was always alcohol. Blacking out to forget about the fucked up life you were consumed by always had it's perks like waking up in vomit or alcohol poisoning. Hell, maybe if she died she could be with all the other people in the house. Who thought like this?

_These visions of death seem to own me, in the quiet of the classrooms all across the stacked United States of Woe. Woe. We live with woe._

When walking feels numb, was it safe to assume you were in a dream? If that were the case she had to be dreaming. This was all a dream. That at least made sense! So, the biggest question would be "when do I wake up", one would assume. No, for her it was, "who would be there when I wake up"? Specifically, would Tate be there. It had made no sense to feel the things she felt, back in the day when she could actually feel, if there was no one there to inflict them. Ghost-boy almost-boyfriend things didn't have tangible forms. So it was just that simple. It left more questions than answers, it didn't make any sense, but it was safe. Safest to assume that he was a real boy, safest to assume if she could physically feel him then that was all she needed as "proof". That was the golden rule, wasn't it? If it walks, talks and sounds like a duck, it's a god damn duck.

Collapsing into her bed once she got there, how she couldn't remember, but she got there and that's what mattered. Violet stared at the ceiling, that was real. Shifting eyes to her dresser, she looked at it long and hard before deciding it too was real. Raising a weary hand to touch her cheek, her nose, her chapped lips, they all had feeling against her fingers. She was real, wasn't she? No. No, she was definitely real. Expelling a weak, defeated sigh as her eyes closed, Violet couldn't even muster the strength to smile as footsteps alerted her of a presence in the room. Only one person dared to venture in there, and even that was scarce these days. Misery loved company, unfortunately confusion and dismay didn't get that memo. Sitting alone in a bedroom for days pondering life and lack there of really made a girl appreciate company, even if it was a ghost-boy almost-boyfriend thing. No, a real boy.

"If you exist, come here."

Tate had gotten used to her off the wall comments these days, and while he was equally confused about everything surrounding them, the house, and life or the lack there of, it killed him to see Violet in the same position. Dropping to lay next to the almost comatose girl, his hand was quickly kidnapped and forced to her cheek. Yes, that was real, she could feel that. Twining their fingers together, the grouping of fingers and palms dropped to her stomach, the two still laying in silence as she listened. When she held her breath, she could still hear his. Dead people didn't breathe. Squeezing her hand around his, Vi opened her eyes finally to look to her side, her real boy laying there with his head on her pillow.

_You're what keeps me believing the world's not gone dead, strength in my bones put the words in my head. _

For weeks Violet has been toying with the legitimacy of his existence, and for weeks she'd been more confused than the day before. Every time they touched, kissed, fell into each other, pressed on the other, it stopped. Her concern for life and death, the difference between the two had no significance when they were together. Her room, her bed, them in it together, had always seemed to be Switzerland, free from decisions, free from obligations, free from everything. Her bed had become home base where as everything else was molten lava you had to jump over, a tag game you had to run through desperately evading being caught while all the time knowing you should have just stayed where it was safe. This, them in the moments they shared there, it was safe, safe like a real home should feel.

Music had dictated feelings, settings, doings, but for over a month she had left her Ipod abandoned, Pandora rejected, the music in her head was the only navigation she seemed to need those days, and even then it was scarce. Right now it was blaring, and it was more than welcome. Not having to think, not having to do anything but soak in how perfect it was to be carefree and simple minded (though she had never really been either), Violet showed the smallest hint of a smile.

"I'm sorry."

His words fell on deaf ears as the sounds of drums and raspy voices took her hearing away from him. Her eyes were closed and he was staring, she could feel his gaze penetrating her soul if there was one, and it felt good. Felt like he was really there, a real boy staring at a real girl. Opening to meet his stare, Violet had turned onto her side to mirror his body. It was curious how no matter how much time passed he didn't look any different. From the pictures in Constance's house to his palpable state. Jaw clenched, Violet forced her eyes shut, focusing on the music to drown out her thoughts. She didn't need thoughts concerning anything distracting her in the safe zone. All she needed was this. Music, Tate, and a comfortable place to lay her head. Opening her eyes, she smiled a real smile this time, thanking what deity might exist that he was still there and hadn't evaporated into thin air like a possible ghost-boy almost-boyfriend thing might.

"I need to feel you more."


End file.
